Page 61 of Secrets & Sake

Suzuki swerves into the lot of a warehouse and bolts from the car, tearing around the side of the building. Something’s off about this. I slam on the brakes and run after him. “Suzuki!” I yell, arms pumping as I run. My prey drive kicks in, the transformation pulling at me.

Hunt. Bite. Kill!

“Stop running! Last warning!” If he doesn’t stop running, I’ll rip him to pieces, and then Namikawa will be pissed.

It’s too late. My claws sharpen, fangs cutting my lip. The wind howls in my ears as I pounce. In seconds, Suzuki is beneath me, kicking, thrashing. Something flies through the air and explodes into the concrete next to us. A bullet. Cursing, I roll off Suzuki just as another shot hits the ground where we were lying.

“Kill him!” Suzuki hollers as he shoves past me and runs. The little shit.

Around the corner of the warehouse, someone pokes their head out from behind cover, metal gleaming in the sunlight. My preternatural instincts kick in, and I’m able to dodge a bullet just as it comes flying at me.

The shot finds its mark right in Suzuki’s back rather than my chest. He flops to the ground, twitching as his blood pools beneath him. The shot was fatal.

Someone… claps? I look up, startled to see a woman wearing the furs of a wolf. She marches toward me, pistol aimed right at my head. Four others appear, armed and decked out in wolf furs.

Fuck. Hunters. There aren’t a lot of them in Tokyo, and they aren’t usually brazen enough to fuck with the Namikawa-kai. I don’t recognize the lapel with their clan’s crest pinned to their outfits.

They must be new to town. I guess I know where the money I loaned Suzuki went to, plus probably whatever else he squirreled away. He must have paid them an arm and a leg to kill me.

The woman tugs her hood down, ruby-red lips quirking into a sly grin. “The Wolf of Asakusa. It’s a pleasure.” She gives a mock bow. Her hunters keep their guns trained on me. “I must say, I’m excited! We’ve been itching to kill Namikawa’s famous Wolf for months now!”

I take a step back, never taking my eyes off them. My heart beats faster. I should have listened to my instincts and called in backup. “How many in our racket have you paid to turn on us?”

She grins, twirling her pistol. “Just Suzuki. For now. We heard you’d had trouble with the law lately, that you’ve gotten the people you’re supposed to protect killed. It’s not a good look, unfortunately. The good people of Tokyo deserve to know the truth about the monsters they owe money to. Soon, they’ll all turn against you, and Namikawa’s empire will crumble. It will be a great honor to kill such a legend of Tokyo! Boys, aim!”

I’m not dying. Not here. I can’t. Bullets burst from their chambers one by one.

Burning pain explodes throughout my arm just as I dive behind the cover of a shipping crate. I’m completely pinned down. The burning in my arm gets worse, like fire in my veins. The wound isn’t healing. As the pain gets worse, I have to gnash my teeth. It’s like my arm is fucking on fire. Something’s wrong.

Fuck. The bullet was silver. No. It’s worse than that, I realize as cold sweat breaks out across my body. Every inch of me is freezing cold except for the damn bullet, burning under my skin.

Aconite. I’ve been poisoned.

Panic claws at me. I haven’t been scared, not in a long time, but fuck, I’m scared now.

I could die. This could fucking kill me. I’ve got to go. I can’t die, not here like prey.

There’s no other choice but to run. I can’t shift, not at all. The world around me sways and blurs as I run, moving fast for a human but painfully slow for a paranormal creature. I maneuver my way through a sea of shipping crates and lose the hunters behind me as I book it back to my car.

Just as I leap inside my vehicle, bullets dent the metal and crack the glass. Gasping, covered in cold sweat, I slam on the gas and hurtle from the shipping yard.

I’ve got to get the damn bullet out. Fast. A hospital is out of the question. My pack is too far away.

What do I do?

I rip down my sleeve, revealing the bullet hole oozing blood from my forearm, veins blackening around the site of the injury. That looks bad.

Bile rises in my throat.

My hands shake on the wheel. I don’t want to die. I can’t. Not yet. I’m not ready. For years, I’ve wasted my life serving Namikawa. I’ve done horrible things to people who deserved better. I’ve been a bad person. Even though I always knew I’d die a yakuza, it’s not what I wanted.

What do I do?

Who can help me?

Can anyone? Is there even time? I don’t know how much longer I have, but the blackness spreading through my veins up my arm and toward my heart gives me some clue.

The light flashes red, and I’m forced to halt in traffic, gasping through the throbbing pain in my arm. Each throb makes my eyes sting and water, and my stomach is churning like I’m going to be sick.

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